Two Times The Fun: The 50th Hunger Games
by KxngOli
Summary: In an alternate universe where Haymitch Abernathy and Maysilee Donner are never reaped brings 48 new tributes into the arena for the most brutal Hunger Games yet. Tensions and hopes are high as Panem waits on bated breath to see who'll come out victorious, no doubt being the most decorated victor yet. Everyone hopes it's them but that'll be the reality for only one. (NOT A SYOT)
1. Prologue: The 49th Annual Hunger Games

**Prologue: The 49th Hunger Games**

_Laurel Hollaway, Eighteen Years-Old  
District Seven Female_

No matter how much Laurel tries, she can't get to sleep. Not tonight, at least. Other nights earlier on in the Games had been easier, a little safer, and in her dreams she felt she was back home. That had been a small solace that kept Laurel going, knowing that whenever she closed her eyes she was back in District Seven. Tonight? Tonight she's acutely aware that she's one of the final five and all the faces of the tributes she killed keep showing up in her mind when she closes her eyes. She supposes, if this is how it is in the arena, that it'd be worse if she won and then she wonders if she'd want to win. No dreams of District Seven and instead the faces of those she killed when she closes her eyes? It's a pretty bad trade, if you ask her.

It's dusk when she finally manages to feel like she's drifting away and she revels in it; if the small smile on her face doesn't give that away.

_**BOOM!**_

She doesn't know how long she's been sleeping for but the sound of a cannon propels Laurel up. She had been sleeping in a small ditch that concealed her from view but the sound of a cannon negates all of that. The cannon means tributes are out hunting. Laurel looks up to the sky to see it significantly darker than she had remembered as she counts off the tributes on her fingers. There's the male from District One, Prism. She doesn't suppose he's died. From what she could tell from the reaction from the crowd on the night of the interviews, he's a favourite to win. There's Thea from District Three, the tall slender girl who could be one of those Capitol models Laurel had seen in magazines in the run up to the Games. The District Four female, Siren, who Laurel had seen violently drowning one of the twelve-year-olds. She's got to be alive, Laurel's sure of it. And then there's Buck, the District Ten male who was as scrawny as anything. Then there's her. Unless she's actually in some weird limbo between life and death, Laurel's alive and well.

The sound of the anthem diverts Laurel's attention away from her thoughts and she watches the hologram for The Fallen. She knows from this that it's roughly midnight, maybe early morning at a push. Her stomach drops a little when she looks at the face of Siren staring back at her, District Four printed neatly underneath her chin. Her death throws Laurel's mind into overdrive. Have the Careers broken up? Did Prism kill her? Or, perhaps in a more terrifying sense, have either Thea or Buck killed her? They were the demure tributes, the ones you paid little mind to. Laurel's watched enough Hunger Games to know that it's a possibility and a viable tactic.

Laurel has to shield her eyes as the arena lights up, daytime sun replacing the night's moonlight. It's a sign that the Gamemakers want to accelerate the Games, to pressure cook them. There's four tributes left; two demure ones and two who have proven to be threats during the Games. Laurel feels sick with giddiness. She knows she has a chance to go home; she killed the District Two and Four males, after all. That had put a bullseye over her head but, as she hoped it would, it gave people that push to sponsor her. More unnervingly, the change in time means all four tributes are close to one another and that whoever killed Siren could be right on top of her. Laurel shudders and decides quickly that it's not good to think about that.

She pulls herself out of the ditch, leaving the sleeping bag where it is. She has a feeling she won't need it anymore. She slings the small satchel she has over her shoulder and makes her way out of the small, dense patch of trees where her ditch had been hidden further. Laurel runs a hand though her hair, the rudimentary bob she had given herself after she cut the majority of her hair off in the Games around the third day. She knows no doubt it pained some people back home to watch her do it but it got in her way too much, what was Laurel to do? She makes up for the lost time of dreaming about District Seven and does so as she navigates her way around the small rivers that connect to make a great plain of rivers. This had been where Siren had drowned the boy from Five.

Laurel's legs hurt a little from the way she had bundled herself so tightly in the ditch so she makes sure to stretch them out, kicking them here and there. It's a weird thought knowing that millions of people are watching her right now. Part of her wonders what they think of her. Do they think she's childish for kicking her legs in the water and taking a second or two to imagine she's back home? Or do they know she's close to a tribute and anticipate her next kill? That scares her, honestly. It's not a nice thought, considering yourself to be a killer, but Laurel knows she is one. She killed two people who were someone's son, probably a brother and maybe even someone's lover. If anything that's another reason not to win; she doesn't want to face them, not if she can help it.

The last note her mentor, Leo, had sent her is ingrained in her mind and she knows she has to act on it.

_Kill the boy from One. He's your biggest competition. They're calling you the Lumberjack of the Careers, see it through. - Leo_

That's what reminds her that, for the Capitol and to some extent the Career districts, this is all a form of entertainment. A sport, some _fun_. She knows that if she wins she'll be known as 'The Lumberjack' for years to come. Part of her wonders what other tributes have been called. Was the ousted District One girl known as the 'Lone Wolf?' Or is Thea regarded as pretty as Laurel thinks she is? Knowing that her parents and siblings need to hear her being called that makes Laurel feel brutish, almost as bad as the Careers themselves. What do they think of their daughter, the baby of the family, being revered for the murders she committed?

A splash in the water snaps Laurel out of her thoughts, diverting her attention to the other side of the river plain.

There, on her hands and knees, is Thea furiously scrubbing at her hands in the water. Laurel can hear her erratic breath under tears and it doesn't take much for her to connect that she must be the one to have killed Siren.

"Get off! _Please_ get off!"

Thea's strained voice as she scrubs away at her hands unnerves Laurel, a lot. For however much Laurel had seen things in the arena, she had yet to see the aftermath of someone killing another tribute; she had run away from Siren as soon as she caught on to what was going on and, when she had killed the two Careers, she reasoned with herself early on that they were going to kill her and she had to do something. She had spared herself the guilt but from one look she knows Thea isn't able to. Deciding against killing her - Prism's her target, not her - Laurel moves to get to the other side of the plains towards the Cornucopia.

There's a scream in the distance followed by maniacal, high-pitched laughter, causing Laurel to freeze in her place. With Thea in her peripheral she can tell the other girl is as scared too.

_**BOOM!**_

The cannon is followed by the same laughter, the one Laurel heard in the distance many a night. _Nightmares_. Crude mutts designed by the capital that could have their form altered at any time to resemble what a tribute feared the most, attracted to the smell of blood. Even their standard form is terrifying; pale white creatures that walk on all fours, long limbs and the distinct look of being emaciated with their ribs sticking out. Their spines are malformed, adding to the fear as they approach you. The three defining features of Nightmares beyond this are their lack of a face bar a mouth, said mouth being big and lined with sharp teeth and claws that put some of the nail fashions in the Capitol to shame. There's a catch, Laurel's learnt over the years; if you don't make any noise as they approach you and torment you with your biggest fear, they leave you alone and move on. If you make a noise? Well, the screams that Laurel thinks are Buck's give away that answer.

It's daytime now, according to the Gamemakers, and the Nightmares'll be sauntering off to wherever they hide during the day, prompting Laurel to continue making her way towards the Cornucopia.

She can still hear Thea in the distance, the mantra of wanting whatever that was staining her hands to come off changing to rallying herself, telling herself that she can do it. If Thea can kill Siren then Laurel wants nothing to do with her. In an ideal world, Thea and Prism'll fight and she'd be able to come in and throw an axe and win.

A misplaced, hard step into the water is enough for Thea to be alerted as to where Laurel is. There's a tension in the air between them as they both acknowledge each other's presence. Laurel's hand hovers over the axe that swings at her side, ready to grab it and throw. She got an eight during training; Laurel knows if Thea charges at her then there's a good chance she'll be able to save herself. Thea looks at Laurel and then her hands, alternating where her gaze falls a few more times before making up her mind. In a matter of seconds she's charging towards Laurel, the small dagger she had for a weapon being held firmly in her place. Laurel's never seen the switch on a person's face as they commit to killing someone and it's just another thing to be added to the catalogue of nightmares she knows she'll experience if she wins.

It's as Thea runs towards her that Laurel notices the deep gash that goes across her chest, indicating that the battle against Siren was sorely won. Even though Laurel begins to break out into her own run away from the girl, she has comfort in knowing that she's in a better state than Thea. That gives her more hope.

_**BOOM!**_

A grunt followed by the unmistakable sound of a body falling in water forces Laurel to look behind her and see Thea's body laid face down in one of the streams, body on the bank. In the back of her skull is a knife and, sure enough, at the edge of the plains stands Prism. There's a second between both him and Laurel's eyes connecting but, when they do, Laurel feels a surge of adrenaline that she hasn't felt since the Bloodbath.

This is life or death in this moment. One misstep is the difference between making it back home to District Seven or being just another name in a long line of dead tributes. Prism'll either be her final victim or her killer.

Choosing flight over fight, Laurel runs for the wooded path that leads to the Cornucopia. She can hear Prism behind her and instincts that were born and bred in Seven kick in. Weaving in and out of the trees with ease, Laurel can hear Prism struggling to replicate her movements. Knives whirr past her, lodging themselves in trees. Laurel knows that if she can make it to the clearing, she can turn around and do one fatal swing of her axe and kill Prism.

Laurel decides there and then as she runs that she _has_ to win - she's come too far not to.

As if by some cruel twist of fate, however, one of Prism's knives connects with Laurel's right thigh and she lets out a pained yelp as she falls to the floor. She knows in this situation keeping the knife in to stop an excessive loss of blood is ideal but she doesn't have that luxury. She needs to get on her back and throw her axe if she has any chance of survival. She doesn't know how far Prism is but the sound of his footsteps getting louder and louder don't bode well for her.

In one swift motion she pulls out the knife, a strained groan sounding out against the otherwise quiet woods. The next few seconds are a blur, lost to the adrenaline rush that palpitates around Laurel's body. She remembers turning onto her back, leg in pain as the wound touches the hard earth, grabbing her axe and launching it in front of her.

The loud footsteps are replaced with a thump and then a near silence. The only noise is Laurel's deep breaths, erratic from the entire situation and, then, the gurgles of Prism. It's when Laurel looks down does she realise what she's just done, what this _means_. Her axe is lodged in Prism's chest and she can tell from the way he's clutching onto the last threads of life that it wasn't enough to be a knockout blow. She watches as his mouth pools with blood and spills down his chin, the sight ingraining itself into her brain for the exclusive purpose of being remembered late at night. It's in this moment that she remembers, again, that Prism means something to many people. No doubt a decorated eighteen year-old back in District One, Laurel knows she's reducing him to something pathetic, as she'd imagine they'd say back in One. With the knife that had been in her leg just inches away, she leans down to pick it up, slowly as it's all her body can allow her. Though her hands shake from the subsiding effects of the adrenaline, she manages to throw it at Prism, aiming for his head.

Laurel doesn't recall in that moment how mercy kills are treated but she doesn't care; at the end of the day Prism was someone her age and, maybe in another life, they could've been friends. She uses that humanity to try and put him out of his suffering - it's the least she can do.

**_BOOM!_**

Laurel watches as Prism's body stops writhing and the sound of his gurgling breaths to stay alive fade out into silence. The only sound that remains is her breaths, erratic and short as she catches her breath. Then, the familiar voice of Cassiopeia Everglow booms out across the arena.

"Congratulations to the Victor of the 49th Hunger Games. From District Seven, Laurel Hollaway!"

Laurel's sure the fact that she's won will hit her soon and she'll be giddy again about being able to go home, but for right now? Now she's eager to let the Capitol work it's magic on her and let her play dress-up another interview for Panem.

* * *

**Hey everyone! This story is going to be a rendition of the 50th Hunger Games using my own tributes! I had debated making this into a SYOT but, given my track record on my old account and the lack of interest on the one SYOT I tried to do on this account, I figured I should do this first.**

**Whilst this is just a story for me to kill off tributes I've created, you're more than welcomed to read along and review! I do have to apologise if my writing style changes tenses or, in this chapter at least, seems a little rusty. I haven't written anything in quite a while. If I'm honest, I'm not too happy about this chapter being in the present tense so I am more inclined to change it.**

**I do want to mention that I am a third year university student in the UK and that means I'm undergoing a ten thousand word essay called a dissertation and my time will be dedicated to that. Thus updates will come randomly and sporadically. **

**In any case, I'll begin with the reapings (or the quell announcement, at least) as soon as I can!**

**~ Oli**


	2. District One Reaping: Pt 1

**This is part one of the District One reapings! Here we'll meet the tributes and see how their lives are just before the reapings!**

* * *

_Victoria Kingfisher, Eighteen Years Old_

For all intents and purposes, The Hunger Games were a family affair when it came to the Kingfishers.

For as far back as Victoria could remember, the Games had been a large part of her life even beyond living in District One. It was always there, like a third parent or part of the household furniture. A second name that all of the Kingfisher children knew from a young age. When being the child of one of District One's most vicious victors, what did she expect? Most things in her life were thanks to her mother; thanks to the Victor's Village. Victoria was a small celebrity in her own right in District One before she could even walk and talk.

Opal Kingfisher - once Opal Jacqueline - had won the 16th Hunger Games in one of the first Games that shifted from the old amphitheatre style arena to the more elaborate ones most in Panem were accustomed to seeing on the screen. From watching her mother's Games over and over, Victoria could map out the arena in her sleep. Though more complex than the amphitheatre, the arena still lacked the complexity of recent versions. It'd been an abandoned town, derelict and falling apart. Victoria remembered once how her grandmother had commented that it looked as if they plucked it out of one of the more ruined Districts from the Dark Days. Victoria always figured, after learning about the rebellion, that it more than likely had been. Opal had, for a lack of a better term, been vicious in her Games with some Capitolite Hunger Games historians crediting her for being the prototype, the first, of the classic District One female strategy; act ditzy and cute before showing that, in fact, you too are a Career. Opal had played the role of the dutiful Career lapdog well; there had been countless conversations between the other Careers to kill her off first and then disperse, all blissfully unaware of the girl's brutality. Then one by one she murdered each of her allies in cold blood after isolating them, the only one she didn't kill being her partner. It was of little shock to anyone that she won and her victory since had been revered in glory.

It was no doubt to anyone that Victoria, like her siblings, were trained to outperform all other prospective Careers at a young age. Some in the Capitol joked that the Games were a coming of age rite for the Kingfisher children and, honestly, they weren't too far off the truth.

Victoria was the fourth born of the five Kingfisher children and, with her three older siblings having experienced the Games, it was her turn. Anyone who knew the family knew how much pressure Opal put Victoria under for the sole reason that, of her three children that had entered the Games, Opal only had one victor child to boast for it.

The eldest Kingfisher child, Gleam, had been the male tribute for District One in the 43rd Hunger Games. Being known immediately as the son of Opal, the amount of pressure and expectation for him to do well from his family, District One _and_ the Capitol had been astronomical. Whenever Victoria watched his Games back there'd always be the questions of how he handled it and, perhaps more importantly, would she have the same treatment? Nevertheless, Gleam put up a valiant effort to win the Games but was cut short, coming third. He had fallen at the hands of that year's victor, Talon from District Ten. As much as Victoria would say she missed him, Gleam was always the sibling she never really knew... never remembered.

The next eldest child, Amethyst, competed one year after her brother with a vow to finish what her brother had started. The Capitol had been a little more enthusiastic to see her compete in the Games. Many decided that Gleam hadn't inherited the strong parts of his mother's personality and wondered if the past Victor's eldest daughter could fare any better. Sadly, she did not. Victoria's mother liked to use Amethyst as an example of not what to do in a Career alliance and that was let your guard down. Nobody could forget how she and the girl from Two, Dove, had a small showdown with the boy from District Eight and ended up victorious. It was a shared victory that ended with Dove killing Amethyst in broad daylight, mutilating her face beyond recognition. 'People will hate you for your beauty,' Victoria always remembered her mother saying, 'Do not let them act on that.'

Then, despite the demands of Opal, the next Kingfisher child volunteered for the 46th Hunger Games, two years after rather than one. Lux had been always been more adept at training, Opal liked to claim after his victory, compensating for the shortcomings of her two other children. Lux's victory had been fought for in a spectacular fashion. With the Games containing a high number of eighteen-year-olds, the odds dwindled a little. Lux had made headlines across Panem for betraying his District partner in before she could do the same; they'd been famously coined the 'Anti-Romeo and Juliet' from how much they disliked each other. Even now, years after, Lux would happily spit on the girl's grave if he didn't have a shred of dignity. Though she idolised her brother immensely, Victoria knew few details about the Games. She could recount who he killed, yes, but that was it. She supposed she'd never been pressured to memorise his Games because, well, he won. He was _there _\- she could ask him any questions she had. Gleam and Amethyst? Victoria had to learn from their mistakes.

"Are you going to be volunteering?" Chandelier, Victoria's boyfriend of a few years, asked as he sheathed the swords they had been practising with. Victoria was more partial to axes but, as Chandelier had pointed out, it never hurt to be versatile with weapons.

"You think I have a choice?" Victoria responded with a lifeless laugh. "It's either do it or be reminded everyday that I'm not like Lux or that I don't have the honour Gleam or Amethyst have."

That'd always been the one rule in the Kingfisher house. You _had_ to volunteer no matter what. 'No child of mine is going to skip out!' Her mother had said over and over. Once upon a time, Victoria's father would've defended their children and tried to convince his wife to think otherwise but the deaths of his eldest two children broke him down. A strong willed man, in Victoria's opinion, was replaced with someone a lot more emotionally distant. A stranger.

"Well, that's true," Chandelier said as he rubbed the back of his neck, hand slipping into her's and leading them out of the training centre. It was never good to spend your entire reaping morning in there, that's what Victoria's brother had once said. "Do you want to?"

Victoria considered the question for a few seconds. No matter how much it was her mother's doing, even she couldn't deny that the prospect of winning was an appealing one - and that was just for a regular Games. The glory of winning a Quarter Quell with twice the amount of tributes? Victoria was sure she'd overshadow even her mother's victory. Plus she and Chandelier could have a lavish life and be celebrities across Panem. It was all tempting and the thing that topped it off was either outcome - as macabre the alternate to winning was - would get her away from her mother.

"I do, yeah."

She could tell by the silence on Chandelier's end, save for a small hum of acknowledgement, that he wasn't too thrilled about the idea. He, alongside her two best friends Bliss and Lustor, never really approved of Victoria going into the Games. They were like any other District One citizen, don't get them wrong, and they thought that winning the Games was a high glory for any Panem citizen but they knew how overbearing and demanding Opal Kingfisher was and they had Victoria's best interests in mind whenever they tried to talk her out of volunteering. Victoria appreciated it, to a degree, but she wanted them to realise she wanted to be in the Games just as much as her mother wanted her to be.

The walk back to her home from the training centre was long and slow deliberately. Victoria hated living with her parents and would've much rather lived with Lux. That had been a massive argument four years ago when he had won the Games; Victoria wanted to move in with him in his house in the Victor's Village to put some distance between her and her overbearing, over demanding mother. That had been vetoed but not without the long, arduous argument that led to a spike in how often Victoria visited the training centre. Victoria knew that her mother perceived her primary function in life to become a Victor, enough so that the thought was the only thing that could ever convince her otherwise to not volunteer. For however much her mother pushed that mindset onto her, Victoria herself developed it and began to measure up her self-worth against her performance as a potential tribute. She spent many nights telling herself that she'd be better than all three of her older siblings; Gleam, Amethyst, Lux - all of them. The best Kingfisher that ever was, so much so that even her younger sister, Ruby, would never be able to be compared to her. That had become a dream of Victoria's and she'd see it through, no matter the cost.

Still, achieving that dream would've been ten times easier had she been living with Lux.

Reaching the doorstep of the family home, Victoria smiled at Chandelier before planting a soft kiss to his lips. "I'll see you at the reaping ceremony, yeah?"

"Yeah," Chandelier replied, voice somewhat detached. Victoria felt the twinges of guilt that she was familiar with. "Make sure you wear that nice yellow dress, alright? You know it's my favourite."

Chandelier's face had a cheeky smile planted on it, eliciting a smile from Victoria. Would she ever get tired of her boyfriend's cheekiness? Probably not; she knew it'd be the first thing she'd miss in the arena.

"I might wear that blue one, y'know, the poofy one that you hate."

"Nooooo, don't!" Chandelier complained as he walked backwards, laughing a little. _Yeah, I'll miss this_, Victoria thought to herself with an internal sigh.

She watched as Chandelier disappeared past the gates and turned back to face the door. _Home_. The place she had learned to hate.

_Oh well. Whatever happens in the Games means I don't need to come back here. Ever._

That small thought gave her some willpower to get through the unbearable reaping day traditions.

* * *

_Tiger Covington, Seventeen Years Old_

The Covingtons weren't an ordinary District One family, Tiger had been made sure of that from those around him as he grew up. His maternal grandfather had, by birth, been a District Eleven citizen who managed to escape with his family into District One before all opportunities to do so had been cut off. Subsequently, as soon as anyone found out that fact, Tiger found he was often ridiculed. As a weak and scrawny boy, torment seemed to be attracted to him. A second abnormality was also very much present in Tiger's life and that was simply that the Covingtons were on the poorer persuasion of District One despite the known luxuries.

His grandfather had, once, sold golden apples that he grew in a famed orchard and enjoyed immeasurable wealth. Tiger's mother had thrown that away, severing her ties with her family, when she fell in love with Granite Covington, the son of a lowly goldsmith who's work was sub par at best. Tiger had often spent many nights wondering why they had to follow the wealth of his one grandfather and not the other, inadvertently speaking ill on the goldsmith who couldn't help his lack of talent. Looking back on those thoughts as he got older, Tiger felt twinges of guilt for what he thought but he had spent many of his formative years desperately wanting to be a bit higher in the district's social ladder. With his mother's father falling ill, however, and her brothers across Panem working as Peacekeepers, the lucrative golden apple recipe had been left to Rochelle, Tiger's mother. That'd been a few years ago and now Tiger and his family were finally experiencing some elevation financially and socially. Still, that didn't stop those around Tiger from remembering where he and his family had once been. They hadn't forgotten so, naturally, Tiger wasn't allowed to forget either. No matter the hardships, however, the Covingtons remained a close-knit family that proved time and time again to be inseparable.

Life on a shallow level perked up for Tiger when he turned fifteen or so; his scrawny stature slowly changed to a more muscular one and his height of five foot five shot up to six foot and his other infantile face had matured enough for him to be objectively attractive. Of course that never took away all the social ridicule people could still throw at him but, at least, people were more hesitant to do so and he could act as some sort of threat on the behalf of his younger sisters. Though winning the Hunger Games had never once been a goal of the Covington family - nor Rochelle's family, at that - Tiger's parents immediately put him into District One's training centre with the goal of him being able to protect himself. And, sure enough, a proficiency in throwing knives became known... enough for Tiger to rise to being a mentor for the younger students and being seen as one of the training centre's biggest success stories. Needless to say any and all ridicule died down by the time the reaping for the 50th Hunger Games came around.

Tiger came to have a reputation at the training centre for being among one of District One's budding knife throwers. He had put his name to be selected to volunteer for the 50th Hunger Games by chance, not expecting to get very far in that small choice making by the academy. He had volunteered primarily to speed up the process of him and his family having that good life. If he could win, he'd be able to give them the comfortable life ten times quicker. That and it meant that Satin wouldn't feel the need to volunteer herself. Lo and behold, however, just days before the reaping was due to take place, Tiger had been pulled aside to be told that he'd be one of the designate volunteers for District One and that he'd be going to the arena. He intentionally kept the news from his family, hoping to make it out in the reaping that he was picked by the escort by chance. Tiger wasn't ashamed of being chosen - in fact he was proud; it'd been a long way from where he had once been - but he didn't want his family knowing, especially his parents. They worried about all their children and he wondered how they'd feel knowing he intentionally put his name into the running. He just hoped they'd be okay with it.

With Tiger on one hand and Satin on the other, the two older Covington siblings walked their sister, Lacey, to her first reaping.

"You won't have anything to worry about, Lacey," Tiger said as he smiled down at his youngest sister. "Nobody's gonna let you get reaped and go up."

Unlike her siblings, Lacey Covington possessed no desire to go into the Games or even train for them; she'd much prefer working in the Covington's new orchards. That had suited Tiger fine, not that it mattered what he thought anyway. It just meant it was one less sibling to see through the Games if he won. Lacey had been the luckier of the three Covington children regardless; she scarcely remembered the true austerity that the family had faced and got to live her teen years in the growing wealth. Tiger had been thankful for that much; he and Satin would often talk about how they'd volunteer to give their parents and Lacey the best possible life they could.

"They won't?" Lacey was soft-spoken in her words and had that innocence that hadn't yet been crushed by the world. "Wh... What if someone doesn't volunteer for me?"

"Someone will, it's a Quell," Satin reaffirmed, taking Lacey's hand in her own and squeezing it lightly. "And if nobody does? Then I'll volunteer for you."

Tiger glanced over at Satin, taking note of how sure she seemed in her decision. Of course, the academy had chosen the four designated volunteers but that didn't necessarily mean that the four chosen would be the four going into the arena. Often times many thought the academy had chosen wrong and, as one of the more relaxed Career Districts, the adherence to what the academy said wavered thin sometimes. Tiger supposed the Quell would be one of those times.

"If you feel nervous, just look at Marquis," Tiger said with a laugh, one that Satin's soon complimented. Marquis was the middle-aged escort for District One who had long since lost his prime. Every year the teenagers of District One joked that he was trying to outdo his ridiculousness from the year before. For all they knew, they were right.

The comment seemed to calm the rising nerves of Lacey, her shoulders relaxing having been tensed just moments prior. Tiger remembered the feelings of one's first reaping well, knowing distinctly the nervousness. He imagined that was universal, even for Career Districts; it was one thing watching from the sidelines when you were eleven and knew you couldn't go in the arena but another to be twelve and wonder if nobody would volunteer for you if your name was called out. Of course the fear went away after a few training sessions at the centre but that sort of fear stuck with you, or at least it did for Tiger. Maybe it was just the fear that, had he been reaped at twelve, those who tormented him would encourage the older kids not to volunteer just to see him die. He shuddered as he relived that memory, it becoming a little too real as they approached the Capitolites who took the reapee's blood._ At least Lacey won't have that level of fear_. That was a comforting thought, at least.

* * *

_Danica Stanten, Seventeen Years Old_

Danica never knew much beyond her and her father. That was all she knew and, truthfully, all she needed. Her mother had died when she was three-years-old from an accident in one of District One's factories and ever since her life had just been a duo act of her and her Dad. Part of her always wondered how badly effected he was by it all; having a child at seventeen and then losing that child's mother and your new bride just three years later. She supposed it did, but he never let her in on it. Maybe that was why he encouraged her to throw tantrums and lose herself to blind rages - the _beast_ within. He didn't want her to feel the same way. Yes, that was it. It had to be.

It was also part of the reason why Danica was sure she had never stepped foot in the training centre; that place caused unnecessary pain, or that's what she deciphered from her father. He had mentioned a few times how sore his hands would be after wielding an axe for hours on end - all of it just to end up not being the picked volunteer when he turned eighteen. Danica couldn't imagine wasting her life like that, not her prime youth years at least. No, Danica got to relax and have an easy life with her father's explicit approval. She always figured she didn't need training anyways. Kids from Outer Districts won without training, so why couldn't she? How hard could it be to swing a sword about? Sure there was _some_ skill needed but if mindless Career brutes could wield them then so could she.

"I might volunteer this year," Danica said as she pushed some bits of bacon around her plate with her fork. "Be the winner of the quell."

"You, volunteering?" Danica's best friend, Silk, stifled a laugh. "Danica, you've never trained."

"Who cares?" She snorted with a shrug, "Reckon I could still give it a shot."

Silk was supportive of her friend, entirely, but throwing oneself into an arena with double the tributes with no training was a death wish. Hell, Silk had trained at the academy's training centre since she was eight and even _she_ wouldn't volunteer.

"You'd have to distract the escort enough for him to forget the two designated female tributes."

"Yeah, who're they?"

Danica didn't care, not really. Sure the academy selected the tributes year after year but what was life without a little spontaneity? Besides, their last Victor was four years ago; six handpicked volunteers had died since then. Clearly the academy was losing their touch.

"Victoria Kingfisher and Glitter Kemble," Silk said, "You might have a chance getting one up over Glitter but that's providing she's selected second."

Danica knew both of the girls from school and, yeah, she'd wager that Glitter would be the easier to overpower in a shouting contest. Victoria was a guaranteed volunteer; her mother had won the Games, three older siblings competed in them and District One's mentors were none other than Opal and Lux Kingfisher. Victoria was entering that arena whether she wanted to or not.

"Glitter Kemble?" Danica snorted again, laughter sounding out, "She couldn't stop Harmonia Diamante from taking her lunch last year! How'd she get pick?"

"She's deadly with a sword, I've seen her."

"We can all swing a bit of metal around, Silk, it's not that hard."

"I don't know..."

Danica contemplated taking her best friend's word for it. She, after all, was the one who had been training for the Games and probably knew a little more about the logistics of weaponry. No matter, she could get tips from her when they said their goodbyes.

"Well in any case, my voice is louder than her's so she'll miss out."

Silk admired the confidence of her best friend, she really did, but she couldn't help but feel that Danica was underestimating the impact of the Games. She knew of the beast inside, but that could only get her so far...

"We'll just have to see," Silk said with a dejected sigh. She had no doubt that she would see Danica on that stage as a tribute but still... would she last against the other Careers? The other eleven who've trained the majority of their lives for this? Silk hoped so, but she doubted the odds would be in Danica's favour there.

"I'll be fine, Silk," Danica said with a little laugh as she smiled at her best friend, brushing her striking red locks into a messy ponytail, "I'll get them to believe I'm useless and then kill them all."

Though it took her a few seconds, Silk eventually replicated Danica's smile and nodded, "I'll make sure to try and sponsor you if I can."

"You will? You're the best!"

* * *

_Glint Sarine, Seventeen Years Old_

Once, the Sarine family held the Hunger Games in an unparalleled prestige. Like most in District One, they wanted the glory for their family, the chance to have one of their own as an esteemed Victor. Many a time, Glint and his siblings were pushed into the training centre at a young age. The memory of picking up his first sword was ingrained in Glint's mind as a reminder of where he had once been, coupled with the memory of overpowering the first guy bigger than him. Glint was a deadly Career machine in the making, that had been clear since he was about thirteen. Following in his older brother's footsteps, Glint wanted to wow Panem with his expertise and have them fall for him through his charm and charisma. Or at that's at least what Velvet would say. Glint always agreed; if _he_ was a Capitolite girl he was sure he'd be begging his parents to sponsor Glint.

The Sarine views on the Hunger Games, however, shattered when the eldest of the three siblings, Velvet, placed ninth in the 44th Hunger Games. He had been brutally slaughtered after a half-hour long struggle between him and the District Nine female, Ceres Monroe. The win had been a victory for District Nine but a loss for District One and something close to a mass devastation for Glint's parents. His death had changed something in them and the parents who once pushed for their children to volunteer for the Games changed their tune. Whilst those around them pencilled it down to Velvet not being strong enough and that Glint or even his younger sister Prestige would fare better, Glint's parents never recovered and all pressures to volunteer were dropped. Being eleven at the time, Glint hadn't had the chance for the added pressure of the training centre to volunteer to influence his mindset and thus remained largely placid when those around him urged him to consider volunteering year after year. He had continued with the training centre regardless - he had been there since he was nine, after all. But there was a definite change in him. The small boy who was so eager to do well and impress became more nonchalant, an air of not caring surrounding him. It frustrated his trainers to no end but Glint didn't care. Their frustrations couldn't bring Velvet back to him. If they could? He might've cared then.

"I heard from some of the other mothers that you're a favourite of the training centre and that they want you to volunteer," Glint's mother said as she brought over some plates from the kitchen counter to the table for the family to eat. A picky, buffet style breakfast was a tradition for the Sarine family on reaping day, originating in Velvet's love for the free, open style.

"Yeah," Glint replied with a shrug as he moved to pile some sausages onto his plate. "I'm not going to."

"Don't you want the fun of being the victor of the quarter quell?" Prestige quipped, "Harlequin and Layana say that's the biggest honour out there! And everyone says you deserve it, so..."

There was a certain naivety when it came to Prestige. Too young to remember her eldest brother, she often found herself being susceptible to those around her. The little girl who had blindly followed her parents and brother in believing there was little to no glory in winning the Games was slowly transforming into someone who sought it; many a night the Sarine parents would be commended at how Career-like she was at only thirteen-years-old. Even though Glint himself was a model Career, it had taken him years to find that confidence which meant he found it uncomfortable to see how his sister was faring. If she was this Career-like _now_, what would she be like when she turned sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen? Would she volunteer just like Velvet did?

A silence settled in the dining room, darting gazes being shared amongst Glint and his parents. With the view of not seeing the Games as highly, Prosper and Shimmer Sarine shied away from any talk that glorified them. They tried, however, to be supportive in their daughter's endeavours no matter how much it worried them.

"Not everyone sees the Games that way, sweetie," Their father said, setting down his cutlery, "Do you think those in the other Districts see the Games that way?"

The use of the other Districts as an example was one Glint was familiar with; his parents often used it when he was younger and the pressures of those around him seemed to make him crack. They were always quite forceful in installing the 'no glory' mentality in him, but Velvet always supposed it was because everyone said he was the walking, talking clone of Velvet.

"Well why don't they? Don't they know the Games brings you fame, glory and everything you could ever want?"

Glint was a cool, calm and collected individual who rarely showed emotions. In his view, he cried out all the tears of his lifetime when he came to grips with his older brother, his _hero_, not coming home ever again. His parents, however, still had that raw, open wound that was the Hunger Games. They always claimed their mourning was long over but Glint suspected they hadn't ever gotten to grips with Velvet's death, not really. Then again, how could you when you witnessed his decapitation on a big screen? Glint was sure if it was his child that he urged to volunteer that year that he too would never get over their death. He could see how his sister's reckless words - words that she didn't mean in any other way beyond curiosity - would touch... _prod_ that open wound.

"Some other Districts aren't as rich as us and don't have a lot of time together at home," Their mother said int he tone that was loving but firm, evident that her daughter's words weren't what she wanted to hear on an emotional level. "Being ripped away from their family that they treasure so deeply is a nightmare."

"They don't volunteer, either," His father agreed with a nod, "No volunteering and no training. The ones from Seven and Ten only have an advantage because of their industry."

"But! I love you all and I don't see the Games as me being taken away from you, so it doesn't make sense! If they want to win badly enough then they should fight harder! Everyone says if you die in the Games then it's just you not having enough willpower. That you're weak!"

Their father's fist coming down on the table made everyone in the room jump, startled at the noise. Glint could tell at once that Prestige had hit that would that hadn't healed. He felt bad for her a little but she lacked tact and that would be her downfall if she was that set on the Games.

"I'm going for a cigarette." His father never smoked, not unless he got truly heated. "When I come back, you better be upstairs or on your way to the reaping, Prestige."

The room remained silent as their father walked out of the dining room, the only sounds left being the dying fizzles of the pots and pans that had been used and the remaining Sarine's heavy breaths.

"What did I say?" Prestige's voice was significantly smaller and quieter than it had been before. The furthest cry from the heated girl just moments ago.

"Velvet was in the Games and _he_ had enough willpower," Glint said simply. He could forgive Prestige for a lot of things but he wondered if maybe his Velvet wound hadn't healed entirely. "But he's dead - he didn't make it home."

"Yeah bu-"

"Just go and meet up with Harlequin and Layana, dear." Their mother's tone was monotonous, a cold instruction rather than her usual warm words. "I think that'd be better for everyone, just for right now."

Glint didn't look at his sister but he could see in the corner of his eye that her gaze shifted from him and their mother, hoping for an ally. It took her a few seconds but she eventually trudged out of the room, the slam of the door igniting further conversation.

"One day your father is going to snap at her," Glint's mother said with a sigh as she reclined back in her chair, "And I don't want to be around when that happens."

"She'll learn," Glint suggest optimistically, though he could tell from the tired look on his mother's face that she didn't share the sentiment. "She just doesn't know any better."

"But it's her brother, Glint, _your_ brother too! How can you let her say those things about Velvet?"

Glint smiled on the inside a little at the irony of how his mother sounded just like Prestige.

"I... don't know. Maybe I just hope she'll learn."

"She'll have to, if she wants to stay here."

The sombre mood wasn't one that Glint had wanted for the reaping morning but he supposed it'd occupy his day after the morning; he'd have to tell his friends that their reaping day traditions would have to wait a few hours.

* * *

**Hi everyone! Welcome to the second chapter of this fanfic where we meet the District One tributes! Some of my favourites among the 48 are here and I hope you enjoy them all too!**

**Danica has significantly less than the other three, largely because her character is going to be more focused in the arena; I did contemplate her having a flashback to a particularly bad tantrum but I want to save that for the arena! We'll learn more about here in the goodbyes! :)**

**As I said in the last chapter, updates will be sporadic and may come at weird times so please do be aware of that.**

**I also tried past tense in this chapter! I definitely prefer it so much more than the present tense I used last chapter and I really hope that shows. I did, however, struggle to find a balance between being too backstory heavy and leaving some things up to find out later on. In this case I believe I was the former rather than the latter. I suppose with the Career tributes having ties to the Hunger Games, though, that's a given.**

**In any case, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!**

**~ Oli**


	3. District One Reaping: Pt 2

**Any speech in italics within this chapter is commentary from our beloved host of the Hunger Games, Cassiopeia Everglow.**

* * *

_Nobody's PoV  
District One's District Square_

Nobody in Panem could deny the beauty of District One. Second only to the Capitol - though maybe some would argue otherwise - the District had served as the muse of many of Panem's greatest masterpieces. The visuals of its citizens also commanded a high deal of attention. With District One's Victors being among the most desired, the expectation of beauty was - and continued to be - extremely high. Tall, grand buildings stood in a style that the old world would call regency; elaborate doors and windows littered with flowers and vines. Roofs of vibrant reds and mellow greens littered the skyline as the camera panned to the Justice Building; an elegant building that stood tall and proud. Atop of each column of the hall, a statute commemorating a victor stood against the clouds. Standing in front of their respective columns were the Victors themselves, each smiling at the growing crowd.

A thing one would notice almost immediately about the District One reaping was how the citizens - both reapees and those who stood at the sides alike - regarded it as a fashion show of sorts. A pageant or a runway. Colourful garments, elaborate headpieces and a certain element of poise was within each camera shot. District One were happy to challenge the Capitol in fashion and the reaping served as the best testament towards that. Naturally those who watched the reaping appeared to be a bit more glamorous than those inside the square itself but nobody could blame the latter. They were, after all, mostly teenagers who were eager to volunteer or go back to training for next year. Regardless, there was a level of refined beauty present during the reaping that could only be found in District One. It was a common saying that, even in the most brutal of fights, a District One tribute found a way to be elegant and poised.

It took very little time for the square to be packed with all the reapees and the crowds that extended into all of the streets adjacent to the square were lined with those craning to get a glimpse at who their tributes would be for the year's Hunger Games. For a Career District, nobody would expect anything less.

_"And here are all of the prospective tributes! They all look so eager, don't they? Just what you'd expect from a Career District on the reaping day of a Quarter Quell!"_

The low murmur of conversations, laughs interjecting here and there, were silenced by the escort coming forward. Marquis was an interesting man, one that definitely represented the more horrifying effects of the Capitol on ageing. A middle-aged man, Marquis had been the escort for District One for close to thirty years and the citizens of Panem had watched him go from a fairly attractive young man to someone who's face had been marred by surgery. Some in the Capitol called for him to be replaced; such a beautiful District couldn't be represented in terms of escorting by a sub par person. The man's personality and fashion, however, was what kept him there. For however questionable his face was, the man's style was District One meets the Capitol in the most elevated sense possible. Partial to ombres, Marquis could command attention with his looks. Then his personality, so effortlessly sarcastic yet inviting, made those in the Capitol and District One alike laugh. Should one remove his looks out of the equation, he was the ideal of any escort; fashionable, devotedly loyal to the Capitol and enticing. If Marquis was on the stage, you couldn't look away.

"Welcome all, to the reaping of the 50th Annual Hunger Games!" Marquis announced into the microphone, an applause and chants of excitement coming from the crowd. "The Second Quarter Quell!"

_"To think, our potential Victor could be right there in that crowd!"_

Marquis smiled at all of those who looked up at him with adoration. Did the people of District One make fun of Marquis often? Yes, but he was seen as the bringer of their glory. Without him, the Hunger Games just wouldn't be the same for District One. He had a charisma that just helped them feel invigorated for the Games.

"As you all know, four tributes will be entering the arena this year! Isn't that exciting?"

The cheer from the crowd indicated that, indeed, District One found the concept exciting. How could they not? Their tributes always made it far and they were just bettering their chances of having another Victor. They craved one; it'd been four years since Lux Kingfisher had won the 46th Hunger Games and Prism coming second last year had only made that yearning even more intense.

"Now, our four tributes will be mentored by none other than District One's mother-son victor duo! Opal and Lux Kingfisher themselves!"

The Kingfisher family were revered for their victories and that was reflected by the way that District One continued to cheer. Their mentors switched yearly as the District had the opportunity to do so. Never had Opal and Lux mentored together and many in the crowd wondered if that meant a Victor from One was near guaranteed, what with Opal's trademarked and iconic way of winning and Lux's savagery.

The Capitol cameras panned to Victoria Kingfisher who stood in the crowd. A somewhat shorter girl than her siblings had been, Victoria was by far the most attractive of Opal's offspring. Though she had a rounder face than the typical District One beauty, many commented it made her look a little younger and more innocent, giving her a dangerous edge over her competition. Some in the Capitol had hoped that she too would volunteer; some even went as far as to ask for a reality TV show centred around the Kingfishers.

The usual events of the reaping took place, the menial things that District One _could_ do without at a push but loved nonetheless. As endearing as it was to listen to their mayor's speech, or listen to some of their beloved Victors talk or even watch the familiar film reel they had seen year after year, the citizens of District One longed to see their tributes. Unlike other Districts, however, District One emphasised that they understood the importance of such things. Yes they could do without them but would the Games still be the Games? Many would wager no.

"But, before we have all the excitement of the reaping, let us remember _why_ we have the Hunger Games in the first place."

The now fifty-year-old video played with the same tone it always had done in District One; burdensome but nevertheless revered. The older residents of District One could remember the Dark Days and the First Rebellion. Some still had their rebellious streak within them but others held the Capitol in high regards. In any case, for them the film was like reliving their memories that had been buried away. Most of them, however, didn't care. The Hunger Games had allowed their District to become rich culturally and fiscally, so much so that the pain from the Dark Days was negated pretty easily. For the younger citizens - the reapees - it was just another age old custom of the Hunger Games.

_"Don't they watch the video with such devoted loyalty?"_

With the video coming to a close, the clap of Marquis' hands into the microphone brought everyone back to the excitement that was to be shared. "Now it's time for the fun bit! To decide who our tributes are for this year's Games!"

Everyone knew that the academy chose the volunteers in advance but, still, there was an air of exhilaration that was apparent during the reapings. Nobody knew what would happen for definite and that was enough for many to be excited.

"As always, we shall start with the ladies."

Marquis made his way to the right of the stage where a bowl of pearl white envelopes sat in a dish. His orange suit glistened in the summer sunlight, ginger hair matching the shade near perfectly. Though it had been one of the man's more natural looks, there was still an unnatural quality to it. Whether that was just an attribute to Capitolites as a whole or Marquis' own oddity, nobody could deny that the man looked more freakish the more natural he attempted to present himself.

He took his time picking out the two pieces of paper. He had first shuffled the names up, scooping names from the bottom to the top and repeating the action multiple times. It was all for show but that was what he was there for. Anyone could call out names of tributes to go to inside of the Justice Building but the escorts allowed there to be a pageantry. Without them, the reaping would simply be boring. Picking a name from the top of the pile and one from the very bottom, Marquis padded across the stage until he was back at the microphone. Holding both pieces of paper up, he waited for the applause to die down before he opened one.

"Evelynne Beauchampinon!"

A sturdy looking girl from the fourteen-year-olds section moved into the centre row of the two columns of reapees. With a stoic face and blonde hair pinned neatly into a bun, it was clear that she didn't want to be the one who's name had been called. Of course it was all customary in District One to have the called upon reapees to walk down the column before the eruption of shouts happened, but it meant for a few seconds all eyes were on them. Clearly Evelynne would rather have not been that person, as evidenced by the way her face relaxed when the shouts of volunteering happened and she could return to her place.

The shouts for volunteering were always loud. With the designated volunteer trying to make themselves known over everyone else who was desperate to guide the escort away from the academy's recommendation, it was nothing short of chaos. Organised chaos, but chaos nonetheless. The camera panned to the girls in the sixteen, seventeen and eighteen-year-old sections who waved their hands, faces going red with how loud they were shouting. If it were any other Games, they might've been lucky. Unfortunately for them, Marquis was a Capitolite before he was an escort and to pass up the opportunity of having the fourth Kingfisher child in the arena wasn't going to happen under his watch. With a smile, he pointed directly at Victoria who had, in contrast to the girls around her, been shouting less ferociously. He waited until the Peacekeepers had found her and, with a signalling nod, he watched as she was guided to the centre walkway and the shouts died down.

The Capitol's cameras panned to the girl. Though still shorter than her siblings, it was undeniable that she was just as strong as them. Her light blonde hair had been left down, straightened as it hit her shoulders. Her emerald green jumpsuit complimented her pale skin. Brown and gold accented jewellery helped bring attention to her hazel eyes. In short, Victoria was a beauty District One could be proud of. She'd have no trouble getting sponsors, that much was obvious. Her button nose added to the air of innocence around her and, if nobody had seen her emerge from the eighteen-year-old section, they might've pegged her as fifteen at a push. She strode down the walkway with an effortless elegance and seemed to glide up the stairs to the stage. As she stood on the stage next to Marquis, she beamed at those in front of her. She was a pride of District One and it was obvious she knew it.

Behind her, her mother and brother looked on with a pride in their expressions. Albeit her mother looked more enthused than her brother, both seemed eager to induct her into the Kingfisher hall of fame.

"What is your name dear?" Marquis asked, emphasising a dumb tone in his voice. Pageantry first, then necessities.

"Victoria Kingfisher."

"Well here you have it District One. Your first tribute, Victoria Kingfisher!"

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Victoria seemed to be capable and, for the District as a whole, that was what mattered most.

"And your second tribute," The escort continued, the sound of tearing paper cutting into the microphone. "Felicity Candlelight!"

A girl from the twelve-year-old's section stepped forward, brown hair bouncing at her shoulders with each step she took. She halted as the volunteer shouts sounded out, eventually being persuaded to move back to where she had been with the push of a Peacekeeper.

Marquis scanned the audience, looking for the designated volunteer. He knew he had to pick a girl named Glitter Kemble and had found her with ease. The unmissable look of disappointment that flashed across his face was recorded by all the cameras. As appealing as Glitter looked - very marketable, if you asked him - she looked so _weak_. Shorter than Victoria by a few inches, everything about the girl seemed small. He could tell that her angle would be similar to Opal Kingfisher. How... _boring_. She wouldn't be able to do it justice. It was when, in the heat of the moment, Marquis signalled the Peacekeepers to bring up the girl next to her instead.

The girl in question was a few inches taller than Victoria. With her limbs being long and slender, the muscle she had was clear to see in her loose shirt and grey slacks. Although she was different than the typical District One visual - dark red hair that reached her mid-back and dark brown eyes - there was no denying that she commanded an air of attention. If Marquis was to be bold, he might comment that she could steal the thunder from Victoria. She too looked younger for her age, her heart shaped face and freckles that were peppered across her nose and cheeks made her seem more youthful than seventeen. Still, she looked formidable and that was only emphasised as she stood alongside Victoria.

"And your name, dear?"

"Danica Stanten," The girl replied with a smile, waving out against the cheers of those who hadn't expected her on the stage but rather Glitter. Though the cameras didn't pan to it, Glitter had a sour look on her face, knowing she'd have to wait until next year to volunteer.

"Perfect! Simply _perfect_!" Marquis said, his voice elated with glee. "Your female tributes for the 50th Hunger Games, District One! Victoria Kingfisher and Danica Stanten!"

He encouraged the two girls to wave and smile as the crowd applauded them. Both were eager to do so, to make the most of their time in District One.

_"Don't both of these girls look so competent? Stunning with beauty, they're simple amazing. Amazing! Would we expect anything less from District One, the beauty district of our glorious nation?"_

Marquis smiled and patted the air to get the crowd to quieten down. "And now for the gentlemen who'll be accompanying these lovely ladies into the arena."

The crowd hushed itself and watched as Marquis made his way to the left of the stage, repeating the same scooping actions he had done to the bowl of female names. There was always a little more anticipation when it came to the male trainees. There were, after all, more male victors than female and in recent years, District One had the pleasure of sending in some particularly robust tributes. Marquis knew this, taking his time and moving slowly. He could see the pained look on some of the audience's faces and he smiled.

"Patience is a virtue! Especially when it comes to our dear male tributes," He said as soon as he got back up to the microphone, allowing his laughter to thunder down into the microphone. Some in the crowd laughed too, agreeing with him happily.

"Our first male tribute... Uriah Hanbliss!"

A scrawny boy from the thirteen-year-olds section began to make the walk up, looking around slightly as he seemed unsure on what to do. Much like Evelynne Beauchampinon, it was clear that Uriah didn't want to be the one that had all the cameras focused on him. One look at his face, at the unattractive spot in the middle of his forehead, would give away as to why.

The shouts and screams of volunteering were much louder when it came to the male reapees. For them, it was almost like a sport. They were more vicious than the female reapees, more eager to get their name heard. Marquis went about choosing the designated volunteer again. He had his fun with Danica, time to get back to what he had been told to do.

The male in question was unmissable. With a darker skin tone than most in District One, he stood out enough. With his height and muscular build added, Marquis could see instantly why the academy had selected him. The teen was escorted to the middle row and was allowed to walk to the stage. His hair, short and curly, was unkempt and looked as if he had styled it in a rush. Marquis concluded that it added a boyish charm to an otherwise mountain of a man. Unlike his female counterparts, the boy looked as if he was older than seventeen; his angled face on a square head with dark brown eyes seemed to give the impression that he was wiser beyond his days. Marquis made a mental note to ask if the boy had any trauma from his past; nothing was off limits when it came to selling his tributes and their stories to sponsors. Though some snickered, most in District One was impressed by the choice of volunteer; his strides were powerful and exuded confidence and, when on stage, he flashed a natural smile. It was obvious already that people wanted to know his story and see who he was. Marquis could work with that.

"And what's your name young man?" He asked, voice exposing just how giddy Marquis was beginning to feel. It was always good to have effortlessly marketable tributes. Those were the best kind.

"Tiger Covington."

"Well, there you have it District One! Our first male tribute - Tiger Covington!"

The crowd of District One citizens wasted little time in clapping for their tribute. He, much like Victoria and Danica, seemed to have a lot of potential. Marquis was already beginning to spin stories on how the three were District One's pride and joy. Did he need to remember all of their names? No. Would that stop him from emphasising that everyone in District One did? Not in the slightest.

"And our second male tribute... Glint Sarine!"

There was a hush in the square as Glint's name was called out. Nobody dared to move, to volunteer.

In what should have been a second rush of volunteering cheers, people desperate for their name to be heard, was silence. An acute silence that was barely heard (or not heard) during a District One reaping, even during the viewing of the propaganda film. Marquis knew the name hadn't been on the academy list given to him, so why were the District's male reapees being so quiet?

"Any volunteers?" He asked into the square, wondering if anyone would step forward. He hadn't seen this Glint Sarine and the fear of the name belonging to a twelve-year-old was rampant within him.

After a few seconds, delayed as if the owner of the name had been waiting for a volunteer himself, a boy emerged from the seventeen-year-olds section. Tall, like Tiger, the boy made his way towards the stage. The camera panned on him, allowing Panem to get an eyeful of the tribute nobody in District One would volunteer for. A beefier man with broad shoulders and biceps that seemed to be unhappy with their cotton constraints, the man was nothing short of the ideal Career tribute. If he hadn't had District One's signature blonde hair and green eyes, he could've been pegged for a District Two tribute instead.

_"You can just feel the tension in the square! Simply incredible! Nobody's volunteering! They must have a lot of faith in him."_

As Glint made his way to the stage, he offered each of his District partners a small nod of the head, acknowledging them. Even they were stunned. Perhaps there was a reason why? Marquis would find it out and exploit it for all it was worth.

"And your second male tribute, Glint Sarine."

It was clear that Marquis was unsure on how to handle a Career tribute who had been reaped, mostly because it had never happened to him. He made a mental note to ask the escorts from the outer Districts how they handled it, just in case something similar happened again.

"Well, Panem, here are the District One tributes for the 50th Annual Hunger Games! Victoria Kingfisher! Danica Stanten! Tiger Covington! And Glint Sarine! You may now all shake hands!"

After pandering to the crowds of District One - including Glint, who seemed to be snapping into regimented academy training on reaping etiquette - the four shook hands. They took their time, eager to let the cameras get a shot of every interaction. After all, it'd be the Capitol that would ultimately make or break their alliance.

Chants of 'District One! District One!' filled the square as the four tributes were escorted inside the Justice Building. Though shaken up by his reaped tribute, Marquis knew he had a very competent set of tributes on his hands.

* * *

**And here we have the second part of the District One reaping! I hope everyone enjoyed it!**

**I realised as I was writing this chapter that I never wrote out the Quell announcement. I imagine, subconsciously, I didn't feel the need to in the past since the Second Quarter Quell is so known. Going forward, I don't think I will write it but I'll make an effort to detail how the Districts reacted to it; how Districts Two and Four celebrated it but Districts like Nine, Eleven and Twelve are dreading it.**

**In any case, that closes the book on Victoria, Danica, Tiger and Glint for now! I wonder what the dynamic will be with three volunteers and one reapee? Especially when nobody volunteered for said reapee, just at the mention of his name? **

**It'll be interesting in any case to see what happens amongst these four!**

**As always, reviews are always appreciated.**

**~ Oli**


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